An Unexpected Amish Proposal Page 2

  Fern dipped her fork into her mashed potatoes and lifted them to her lips. The thought of swallowing them almost gagged her.

  “If the news is that awful, maybe you should tell us now,” Daed said.

  Forcing the bite into her mouth gave her a few seconds before answering. How could she tell them she’d be out of work in two weeks? Even worse, they wouldn’t be able to send money to her brother.

  Mamm set her silverware on her plate. “Your daed’s right. Sharing burdens helps lighten them.”

  Often that proved true, but this news would increase everyone’s pain.

  “Fern?” Daed’s tone demanded a response.

  She choked down the gluey mass of potatoes. “Russell Evans stopped by the stands to give us our new contracts.” Swallowing hard, she forced herself to continue. “He increased the rent . . .”

  “We’ve been expecting that.”

  Jah, they had. “But we didn’t expect the rent to triple.”

  Mamm gasped.

  “Triple?” Daed shook his head as if he’d misheard. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” She’d been handing over the rent checks every quarter.

  Daed winced. “Let me see the paperwork as soon as we finish supper.”

  They ate in silence, and both of her parents seemed to have lost their appetites too, but they all cleaned their plates anyway. After Fern whisked the dishes off the table, she went to get the rental agreement.

  Daed read through the contract. Then he slid off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Finally, he spoke. “It’s not the end of the world. God has a reason for this.”

  Although her heart agreed, Fern’s mind whirled. What were they going to do?

  Mamm left the dishes soaking and sank into the chair beside Daed. “What about Aaron?”

  Daed met her eyes, and they shared a long, sorrow-filled look. “Unless we can get another stand set up elsewhere in the next two weeks, we may have to stop sending money to him and the mission. I pray that won’t be necessary.”

  “We can go without things here to be sure he doesn’t go hungry.”

  Of course. They all made do so they could send extra money to Aaron. He’d been in South Carolina since the flood, working on the mission project Fern had asked to join. Instead, her parents had decided it would make more sense for her to keep working at the market to make money. They sent her younger, rebellious brother, Aaron, in her place. As Daed pointed out, Aaron could handle the construction work that Fern couldn’t.

  She’d offered to go as a cook—they always needed cooks to feed the workers. But her parents depended on her income. She managed to hide her disappointment better than Aaron, who made no secret of his reluctance. None of them could believe his recent transformation. After he’d completed his two-week stint, he’d decided to stay and keep working.

  Mamm had beamed as she read Aaron’s letter announcing the news. “God has worked a miracle in our sohn’s life. Instead of getting into trouble, he wants to dedicate his life to helping others.”

  They all marveled at the change in Aaron and prayed for him daily. When his living expenses increased, Fern baked longer hours to make more money. They also cut corners at home so they could send Aaron extra money for building supplies to help the Mennonite mission with the cleanup and rebuilding.

  Fern tried not to begrudge her brother the money and the chance to participate in the mission work she’d longed to do, but some days—like today—it proved hard. She’d be stuck in the market stand for the rest of her life. Unless she married.

  Where had that thought come from? No doubt being around Gideon today had sparked that wayward idea. She shook it off. No time to think about hopeless causes—like mission trips and Gideon’s love.

  Right now, she needed to concentrate on figuring out how to make money to support her family.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, Daed took out the accounting ledgers and scribbled figures on scrap paper while Fern cleaned the kitchen after breakfast. Mamm helped when she could, but Fern could see her mother was in pain.

  Guiding Mamm to the table, Fern said, “Sit down, and I’ll finish.”

  She’d put away the last dish when Daed tapped his pen on some numbers, circled one final figure, and sighed.

  “Even if you double what you’re making, dochder, we can’t pay the higher rent and send enough money to Aaron. I’ll talk to Russell to see if he’ll lower the cost.”

  “Nick tried, but Russell wouldn’t budge.”

  “He raised Nick’s rent this much?”

  “Jah, and Mose’s too.”

  Daed’s eyebrow rose. “What’s Russell trying to do? Get rid of everyone in the market?”

  “Not everyone. Gideon’s rent went up, but not by that much.” Her face heated. Why had she mentioned his name? She was grateful Daed remained absorbed in staring at the numbers.

  “So only certain stands are getting the triple rent?”

  “Just the five stands closest to the front door. Nick says that new organic farm wants that whole space.”

  “I see.” Daed stroked his beard. “Then there’s little sense in trying to get Russell to change his mind.”

  Tears welled in Mamm’s eyes. “We’ll have to look for other markets.”

  Daed patted her hand. “I’ll check with Russell first. You and your mamm started that stand, and Mose and Nick have been there even longer. That should count for something.”

  Fern doubted anyone could talk Russell out of the rent increase, but Daed should at least try. He wouldn’t be as abrasive as Nick. Perhaps Russell would listen.

  Maybe.

  * * *

  All weekend long, Gideon couldn’t get Fern—and the other stand owners, of course—off his mind. Although he had to admit, no matter how much he tried to think of other things, the image of Fern’s worried face crowded out all other thoughts. He had to help her.

  He came up with an idea that might work, if he could get Russell to agree. Gideon waited impatiently for a chance to discuss his offer with Russell. He prayed the two-day break had given Russell time to calm down after his encounter with Nick.

  Early Tuesday morning, Gideon mounted the stairs to Russell’s office. He hoped to find the market owner at his desk. After a quick look around to be sure the small upstairs craft shops were still closed, Gideon headed down the hall.

  He passed an older Amish man dragging his left leg along as he leaned on a walker. As eager as Gideon was to talk to Russell, he wanted to be sure the man got down the stairs safely. From the expression on his face, the man had received bad news.

  “Is everything all right?” Gideon asked.

  The man shook his head. “Neh, but God has His reasons.”

  “Jah, he does.” Gideon said a quick prayer that God would help this man. Right now, Gideon had to help the man as well.

  From the set of the older man’s jaw, he wouldn’t accept an offer of assistance down the stairs. Before the man reached the steps, Gideon hurried past him and started down the stairs slowly. If the man tripped or fell, Gideon’s body would block him from tumbling the rest of the way. He tried to match his speed to that of the man behind him.

  When they reached the first floor, the man gave Gideon a questioning look. He needed an excuse for coming down here.

  “I forgot something in my buggy,” Gideon told him. He’d get the pad and pen he’d left on the seat. He might need them when he talked to Russell.

  The man nodded, but his eyes said he didn’t quite believe Gideon’s reason.

  Gideon slowed his gait to match the man’s. “Do you have space here?” Gideon asked. He hadn’t seen the man before, but he could be the owner of one of the newer shops upstairs.

  “Neh, not anymore.”

  Gideon wanted to ask about the man’s former business, but the sadness in the older man’s eyes stopped any questions. Instead, Gideon walked silently beside the man and moved ahead to open the heavy w
ooden market door.

  He kept an eye on the man as he headed to his buggy. Gideon wanted to rush over and give the man a boost when he struggled to get in, but the man’s proud demeanor warned he wouldn’t accept any help.

  Once the man made it safely inside and his buggy started off, Gideon grabbed his pad and pen. He raced into the market and took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t have much time to corner Russell before the other sellers arrived. He hurried down the hall and through Russell’s open office door.

  His feet propped up on the antique wooden desk, Russell leaned back in his cushy chair, chatting on the phone. “Yep, should be able to let you move in the first of next month.”

  Spying Gideon in the doorway, he frowned. “Listen, I’ll have to call you back. Something I need to deal with here.” He hung up. “I don’t appreciate being interrupted before we open.”

  “I’m sorry, but this is important.”

  “If you’re here to protest your rent increase, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve heard enough griping today. I’d hate to lose you, but—”

  Of course he would. Gideon’s stand was the second largest in the market, and with his planned expansion, he’d be almost as large as Miller’s Meats. Although if the organic stand took up the whole front section of the market, they’d be much bigger than Gideon’s and Miller’s put together.

  That’s what he’d come here to talk about. The organic business. “I’m concerned about the stand owners who got the triple rent increases.”

  Russell sneered. “What’s it to you? I didn’t raise your rent that high, but I could.”

  Gideon ignored Russell’s threatening tone. “All five of those stands have been part of this market for years.” He wanted to point out that Nick’s family had been one of the original stand owners, but no sense in annoying Russell by reminding him of that earlier confrontation.

  “Yeah, they’ve been around forever. Time for a change. You’re modernizing your business. So should I.”

  “But customers count on those stands.”

  “They’ll get over it. Plus, those old people shuffling in here with their sniveling grandchildren to buy one cupcake or a little bag of candy for old times’ sake aren’t the customers I want to attract.”

  Gideon pressed his lips together to keep from defending those old-timers. He always loved it when elderly customers remembered him toddling after his father or grandfather. And he especially enjoyed meeting their grandchildren, or even great-grandchildren. But Gideon didn’t want to rub Russell the wrong way before making his proposal.

  Russell lowered his feet and leaned over the desk, his eyes intense. “You’re an example of the kind of forward-thinking stand owners I want. Organic chicken. People love it. Now we’ll have Ridley’s organic meats and specialty produce. That’s what brings in the upscale customers.” He rubbed his hands together.

  “Your father kept a mix of both kinds of customers, and he seemed to do well.”

  With a wave of his hand, Russell dismissed Gideon’s reminder. “Pops was too sentimental. You can’t do business like that nowadays. Not if you want to get ahead.”

  Russell’s attitude made Gideon sad. He saw nothing wrong with being sentimental or appreciating families, especially ones who’d made your business grow. But the conversation had gotten off track, and he needed to make his own point.

  Taking a deep breath, he offered, “I’ll give you half of the rent increase you’re charging all the stands along the front wall and pay for their next quarter up front if you don’t increase their rent for the next three months.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Gideon refused to accept that flat-out rejection. “If you let me pay that reduced rate, I’ll start my expansion next month at the cost we agreed on. If not, I’ll look into moving my business elsewhere.”

  Russell’s lips moved, as if silently calculating what he’d gain or lose. After a few moments, his eyes flickered. Crimson suffused his face. “This is blackmail.”

  Perhaps from his point of view it was, but Gideon had intended it to be a deal Russell couldn’t refuse. And he hoped an immediate payment might sweeten the arrangement.

  Russell’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I won’t settle for less than three-fourths of the rent.”

  Gideon did some swift mental figuring. He’d really hoped to get his brother’s debt cleared up. The exorbitant interest rate was killing him. If he accepted Russell’s terms, it meant only paying the minimum payment on the loan. He’d also have to put several of his expansion plans on hold until he paid off what Thomas had owed.

  “All right,” he said finally.

  “On second thought, let’s make it one month instead of a quarter.”

  “Neh, it needs to be a quarter.” Gideon hoped the organic farm would look elsewhere instead of waiting that long. He couldn’t keep paying the rent after that, but Russell might be amenable to negotiating the stand rents if the big business pulled out.

  “One month or nothing.”

  “I guess I’ll be giving you my month’s notice then.”

  Through gritted teeth, Russell spat out, “Two months.” The grim expression on his face made it clear he wouldn’t budge.

  “All right. Two months.”

  Gideon regretted that he could only help everyone for two months, but it might give them a little time to find other places to sell their goods. And maybe the wait would be long enough to make the organic farm reconsider.

  “And payment up front.” Now that he’d gained that victory, Russell’s expression slid from irritated to gloating.

  “I’ll bring a check for the full amount on Thursday.” Gideon started for the door, then turned. “Oh, and I have one more condition.”

  A deeper scarlet mottled Russell’s face, and he puffed up his chest.

  Before he could explode, Gideon held up a hand. “All I ask is that you don’t tell anyone who paid their rent.”

  Russell sneered. “Always the hero.”

  Those words cut deep into Gideon’s soul. Long ago, his brother had accused him of that too, but Gideon had been powerless to save Thomas the only time his brother really needed a hero.

  Chapter Three

  On Tuesday morning, Fern rolled her cart full of containers into the market. Daed had decided they couldn’t keep the stand in Valley Green, and her search for new market space had been fruitless.

  Nick entered, a glower on his face, followed by Mose, who shuffled to his usual place, dumped his crates, and arranged them haphazardly.

  “Mose,” she called, waving two twenties. “I sold some of your vegetables after you left on Saturday.” He didn’t need to know that she was the buyer. She’d taken a few things home for Mamm and dropped the rest at the food kitchen. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had left from her ingredient money for this month.

  Shades of Mose’s old grin crossed his face, but his smile was almost as lackluster as his produce arrangement.

  After all five of them had arrived, Fern beckoned everyone over. “I contacted all the markets in the area. Only one has a tentative opening for six months from now. If any of you want to get on the waiting list, here’s the name and number to call.”

  The two Englisch women took the paper she held out and jotted down the information.

  Nick glowered at the note. “Six months to wait and only a possible chance? Not worth it.” Then he looked at Fern and softened a little. “Thanks for trying.”

  Mose only shook his head. “I can’t go that far from home. And six months from now? Who knows what might happen before then?”

  “Don’t look now,” Nick said in an undertone, “but our nemesis is heading this way.”

  “Huh?” One of the women stared at him.

  “Russell.” Nick hissed out the s’s in Russell’s name like a snake. “The evil one.”

  Fern cringed. As much as she disliked what Russell had done, she didn’t like Nick’s label for the market owner.

  “We’d better hightail i
t back to our booths before he decides we’re too lazy to finish out our last two weeks here,” Nick announced, loudly enough for Russell to hear.

  “Wait,” Russell called. “Before you all scatter, I have something to say to the five of you.”

  “Besides good riddance?” Nick growled.

  Fern’s instinct was to run and hide. She had no doubt that whatever Russell planned to say, it wouldn’t be good. But Gideon happened to be strolling behind Russell. Fern got so engrossed in watching Gideon, she stayed rooted to the spot until Russell reached them.

  Gideon leaned casually against the wooden pillar beside Fern’s stand. Close enough to hear their discussion, but far enough away not to be mistaken as part of their group. Had he come to protect them again? Would he intervene if Russell tried to get rid of them?

  Looking pained, Russell cleared his throat several times. “I, well, I’ve decided to keep your rent the same for the next two months so you all have time to look for other markets or jobs.”

  “You mean the organic place can’t move in for two months?” Nick laced his words with sarcasm.

  Russell’s jaw worked. “For your information, they want to move in now. But I’m giving all of you extra time out of the goodness of my heart.”

  “The goodness of your heart?” Nick muttered. “Yeah, right.” Then he raised his voice. “Thanks for nothing.”

  Bright red flooded up Russell’s neck and splashed across his face. Teeth and fists clenched, he took two steps toward Nick.

  “Go ahead,” Nick taunted. “I’d love to sue you.” Behind Russell, Gideon cleared his throat. Russell whirled around.

  “What are you doing here? Spying on me?” He looked prepared to advance on Gideon.

  Raising both hands in a gesture of surrender, Gideon responded in a calm, soothing tone, “I’m just waiting to talk to Fern.”

  “Me?” At the surprised squeak in her voice, Fern’s face burned. She only hoped she didn’t look as flushed as Russell.

  “Jah, you.” Gideon nodded in her direction, his expression impersonal. “I have a business question.”

  Russell snickered. “I can imagine the business you’d like to discuss with her.”